


To The Bone

by rispacooper



Series: That Bones/Criminal Minds Cracky Crossover Love Story [4]
Category: Bones, Criminal Minds
Genre: Age Difference, Crack Pairing, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, First Date, First Kiss, M/M, Sexual Identity, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-29
Updated: 2012-02-29
Packaged: 2017-10-31 22:24:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rispacooper/pseuds/rispacooper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So...that first date offer that Hotch finally decided to accept. Here it be. Oh, with a little tiny commentfic at the end to explain the whole...Wendell dances around thing. *Or* the fic where Hotch is scared and Wendell doesn't figure it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To The Bone

**Author's Note:**

> I BLAME COFFEEBUDDHA! However, since she is writing that awesome scene in the bar with Morgan and Reid that Wendell and Hotch keep referring to, I also LOVE her and want her babies. And yes, there's a commentfic at the end of this story. Just because. We are insane.
> 
>  
> 
> ETA: She has written that awesome scene, and here it is. [Hit Me Like The Sky Fell On Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/350317) Smitten kitten!Aaron thinking lovely sad thoughts. Also a hint of Reid/Morgan. :) *love*

 

Wendell couldn’t figure Aaron out, not that he was even sure why he wanted to. A part of him, the part that had seen Aaron in the field, had thought that Aaron would take over this date, but the part of him that had worked up the courage to ask Aaron out so many times wasn’t surprised that Aaron seemed to be following his lead tonight. 

He could feel Aaron watching every move he made, and shifted. He wasn’t nervous anymore, well he _was_ , but he wasn’t worried about pit stains or his hair now. He looked good, as good as he’d been able to make himself look before he’d run out of his apartment to make it here on time. Aaron looked good too. Better than good. He’d dressed simply—not a surprise either, but it was still startling somehow to see him without a tie and to notice that his short hair was damp, probably from a shower. It was like knowing that Aaron had spent too long in front of his closet getting ready for tonight too and yet he’d still chosen casual for Wendell’s sake. 

Wendell was suddenly grateful he’d picked this bar, it was clean and quiet and most of all, private. Anything that would help put Aaron at ease would help, because Aaron wasn’t relaxed, not by a long shot. 

His shoulders… Wendell eyed the straight, tense line of Aaron’s shoulders and tried really hard not to think about his hands on them or how they’d look above him. He also tried not to think about Aaron’s mouth and the soft curves that the world rarely saw but which had been driving him crazy for fucking _weeks_. But Aaron had caught him looking, again and again, while they’d fallen into talk about work, and then about his team, and Wendell’s, and then Wendell’s dissertation. 

The fact that he hadn’t commented, that Wendell hadn’t caught Aaron staring at _his_ mouth in return, was beyond frustrating. Aaron was a gentleman, okay, and conservative about some things, and old-fashioned, but Wendell wasn’t used to people who didn’t _look_ at him, and it was only confusing him more. 

Aaron seemed to be enjoying himself, but there was a reserve, something, that Wendell couldn’t get to and whatever it was, he wanted to find it and study it and _own_ it. It was a new feeling and enough to make him falter and stop talking. 

“This isn’t what I was expecting,” Aaron said into the silence and took a small drink of beer. He kept his head down but his eyebrows, like the corners of his mouth, lifted in a private smile. 

All of Aaron’s smiles were like that; Wendell had noticed that a while back, how Hotch as his agents called him, how Hotch almost never smiled. They were few and far between, even when he wasn’t working. Maybe it was just that Aaron was always _on_ , anticipating problems, out-thinking good guys and bad guys alike, and didn’t know how to shut it off. Wendell understood that, he really did. He’d been surrounded by obsessive, determined, over-thinkers for years now, he knew the hallmarks. He _liked_ the hallmarks. Sometimes just being around Dr. Brennan was enough to make him grateful for the lab coat that was perfect for hiding inconvenient erections. 

Some people would have tried to warn him off for that same reason, but Wendell was long past that. He loved his work and his coworkers, even with their faults. And Hotch—Aaron, to Wendell—he was something else entirely. Wendell wasn’t sure what exactly, but he liked seeing the man smile and he liked sitting here with him without dead bodies around and he liked that he got to call him Aaron when not many other people did. 

“You don’t like it?” Wendell wondered out loud, not trusting his voice enough to keep his tone light so he coughed and took another sip of beer. He’d thought a lot about where to take Aaron once Aaron had finally, _finally_ , said yes, some place that wasn’t stuffy but wasn’t too young. No friends, no shots, no hollers from across the room. Not a gay bar, no hotter guys in the room to attract Aaron’s eye and no one around from Wendell’s past who’d thought of him as disposable. A place with food and an easy atmosphere, that’s what he’d wanted. But maybe he’d done wrong, over thought it all the way he’d had to restyle his hair three times tonight. 

Aaron gave a minute shake of his head. “No, it’s a nice place.” He gestured at his plate. “The food is good enough that my brother would approve.” 

Wendell perked up at the reference to Aaron’s family. He knew he did, but it didn’t stop him. Apparently he didn’t have any dignity, but he knew for a fact that Aaron didn’t open up with details about himself to a lot of people. Wendell had asked around when visiting Booth at the Hoover building, and though Aaron had an awe-inspiring reputation as both a relentlessly brilliant badass and a quiet troublemaker, no one really knew much about his private life. 

Aaron had mentioned his brother earlier too. Wendell took that as a sign that things were going well after all. He hadn’t done wrong. He watched Aaron lick a trace of beer from his lower lip and then quickly brought his eyes back up. Aaron’s gaze met his, and then Aaron exhaled and looked away. 

“What were you expecting then?” Wendell asked quickly. He honestly had no idea. Reading people was something he’d used to think he was good at until he’d met the FBI’s star profilers. They were a little unnerving, especially Agent Rossi who winked at him in ways that were less creepy and more knowing, but if Wendell had managed to surprise Aaron, he was willing to roll with it. In fact, he had a slight, growing suspicion that he would roll with almost anything Aaron suggested. It was probably because Aaron _wasn’t_ suggesting anything. 

Aaron glanced around the bar before looking back at him. He hadn’t let go of his bottle of beer and his fingertips were wet with condensation. Wendell took a pull from his beer, keeping an eye on Aaron as he did. It wasn’t one of his smoothest moves, drinking slowly from a bottle, wetting his lips as he did, but he didn’t need moves. Just getting Aaron here with him had him on edge, practically tingling with the need to move, to get Aaron’s eyes on him. Anyway, even if someone as hot as Aaron didn’t know that move—which Wendell doubted—a profiler probably would. It should make it clear enough what Wendell was after here. 

That same, small, strangely humble smile was at Aaron’s mouth as he turned back but it slipped away for a second as he stared at Wendell, at his _mouth_ , at fucking last. A moment later the smile was back, along with what might have been color in Aaron’s cheeks. It was hard to say for sure in the dimly lit bar. 

“This place…” Embarrassed or not, Aaron looked over at Wendell again. Wendell had been hoping for turned on, but he would take embarrassed. Embarrassed looked good on Aaron, like how the dark suits looked good on him but so did the dress shirt and blazer he’d shown up in tonight. No tie, Wendell thought again, not sure if he missed the tie or not. No tie meant Aaron attempting to be casual, as if anything about him could be. Intense was his middle name. 

Wendell almost asked if Aaron even owned a sweatshirt and jeans, but since he had shown up in a dress shirt too he could hardly say anything. In any event, the idea of Aaron in jeans was more than his brain could handle at the moment. He was too excited as it was. 

So excited. Wendell felt his face heat. The amount of time he had spent choosing what to wear was actually embarrassing, though not as much as what song he’d been listening to while fixing his hair. He’d already decided to avoid the subject if anyone asked him tomorrow. If he was lucky, Angela might even let it go. But he already knew he was going to ask about the rest of the night, everyone would but Booth who let manly silence reign and Dr. Brennan, who wouldn’t care. Wendell had tried not to be obvious, but he worked with scientists who loved detail, no way could it stay a secret. It was something else he and Aaron had in common, judging from Rossi’s winks. 

“What about it?” Wendell cleared his throat to ask and looked around. It was a weeknight so the place wasn’t packed. There were a few men in suits at the other end of the bar and some younger people at the booths in the back. The music was quiet and the TV above the bar was muted but tuned to the news. There was a plate of carne asada nachos in front of Aaron and what had been some barbecued pulled pork sliders in front of Wendell, along with their beer. 

Aaron’s eyes met his again. “Did you choose it with me in mind? This isn’t where you normally go.” He wasn’t asking the last part. 

“Wow.” Wendell exhaled without thinking, though his heart was beating fast. It wasn’t personal how Aaron knew him, but it seemed like it should be. Wendell had never had anyone _want_ to know him, not like people did on real dates. He’d thought someone had, once, but he couldn’t feel any anger toward Angela anymore, only something like relief because she hadn’t wanted this from him and at least it had taught him that he did want that from someone. The anger came when he thought about other people. Men and women tended to view Wendell the same way, cute and fuckable, and while that had definite advantages, it also meant that Dr. Brennan was the only person in his life that considered his brain first—until Aaron and his team. 

Until Aaron, who took what Wendell had to say as dead serious and who didn’t forget about Wendell’s scholarships and awards and that he was interning with the absolute best in his field for a reason. Aaron didn’t seem to think Wendell was rough trade or a delicate princess, both only good for one night. Not that Wendell would object to one night with Aaron. He’d ride it. He’d ruin it. Oh yeah, he’d _ruin_ Aaron Hotchner for anyone else. 

He took a long drink of beer to wet his mouth and heard his voice rasping anyway. “You aren’t even guessing, are you?” He tried a joke. “Have you been stalking me?” Aaron frowned as if that wasn’t funny, but then blinked and offered another tiny smile. 

Wendell took another drink. If he took a drink every time he got Aaron to smile tonight, he’d be dizzy and drunk, but he would still feel more sober than he did when Aaron leaned in toward him. 

“You don’t have to look so pleased about the possibility,” Aaron teased dryly, his cheeks darker with what had to be a blush, and then pulled back to finish his beer. 

Despite having seen Aaron in a bar with his team before, Wendell thought that watching the slow unwinding of Aaron Hotchner under the influence of a little alcohol was one of the hotter things he’d ever seen. It was all about the subtle changes in him, keeping your eye sharp as if you were looking for a micro fracture that could only be seen with a microscope, but it made all the difference. Aaron was one beer into the night, he was flushed and smiling. 

Wendell straightened up. 

“I’ve been chasing after you for weeks. It might be nice to have you following me,” he admitted, holding up his hands and grinning. “Just saying.” 

He was expecting a smile in return. He got a stare instead, and then Aaron swallowed. Swallowing was what people did before saying something they didn’t want to say, or when they were thinking about _swallowing_. Wendell looked down at his beer because he couldn’t tell which it was. “I like this bar. There’s one we—my friends at the Jeffersonian—go to, but I didn’t want to go there for this.”

Some people, the kind Wendell usually went out with, would have been insulted at that. When he glanced back, Aaron looked still and interested, as if he was waiting for more. Wendell shrugged in a kind of nervous gesture as he realized that he had Aaron’s full attention, that he’d had it all night. He put his hands down to hide how shaky they suddenly were. He felt so hot. There was a knot in his stomach and it only got worse when Aaron tilted an inch or two closer to him to encourage him to speak. 

“I didn’t think you’d call.” Wendell shrugged again. It shouldn’t matter like it did. Aaron was a cool guy, sexy, interesting, but the D.C. area was full of cool, sexy, interesting people for Wendell to crush on, people who usually liked him back and didn’t make him work this hard. Of course, they’d never called him back either, but he wasn’t thinking about that now. 

“I did run away, didn’t I?” Aaron surprised him again by directly addressing what Wendell had only alluded to. Wendell looked at him and remembered the tension coming from Aaron when he had come down to the lab to find Wendell and agree to go out with him. Then he tried to imagine what Aaron might have looked like when he’d called Wendell to arrange this date from the jet the BAU used. 

Aaron wasn’t smiling though. “I had—have—my reasons.”

Everything that Wendell had been hoping for with the Pointer Sisters in the background felt like it was slipping away. He turned and signaled to the bartender for more beer. “I’ve got this,” he insisted before Aaron could add anything, and took a long, long pull once he had new beer. Aaron took a moment, making the small pause significant, as if he knew what Wendell was thinking. He probably did. Aaron could read him like Brennan could read Dr. Suess…or not actually, because the nonsense in Dr. Suess that everyone else understood easily would probably confuse her. 

Either way, it was a miracle Aaron wasn’t bored with him already. He wasn’t special. He wasn’t a genius like Reid. He worked hard for what he had, but he wasn’t special at al. 

“Getting me drunk?” Aaron’s soft remark made Wendell’s eyes widen. He accepted his beer, whatever he was saying, and had a drink. “I’m hardly Reid.”

Wendell snorted and choked on his beer. It burned in his nose and he grabbed a napkin to wipe his face. He had no moves at all. 

“I got Reid drunk for his own good,” Wendell defended himself, though the memory of tricking Dr. Reid into thinking Wendell had been matching him shot for shot made him grin. “Anyway, he deserved it.” A guy could be fleeced at poker only so many times before he suspected cheating. 

That evening at the bar had obviously been a semi-regular event for the BAU, which was why Wendell had been surprised to have been invited. For a while, until JJ’s husband and Penelope’s Kevin had shown up, Wendell had wondered why she’d dragged him along, especially with how Aaron had watched him from across the table all night, from across the bar, without ever approaching him. 

Wendell had assumed at the time that Aaron had been doing it to save Wendell’s feelings, since Wendell had humiliated himself by asking Aaron out a few times. Then he had seen Aaron’s eyes on him as Reid had leaned drunkenly against him, his stare hot and serious. 

Wendell didn’t study human behavior, but he knew jealousy when he saw it, it went deeper than flesh, something like that, or so it felt when it made you shiver and ache like a fever was ravaging your bones. 

He shook his head. “Morgan is my bro now. It’s all good.” 

“I’ve noticed.” If Aaron was thinking about Reid draped all over him now, or Morgan’s reaction to that, Wendell couldn’t say. He couldn’t even ask without taking another drink. He was so fucked. 

“Spencer isn’t my type,” Wendell was just drunk enough to make saying that okay. “I like older.” He tossed it out, recklessly, with the beer too cold on his tongue. Aaron inhaled, loud enough for Wendell to hear without leaning in closer. It had taken Wendell a while, but he’d figured out eventually that part of what was holding Aaron back was the age difference. But it was, what? Ten years? Twelve? It wasn’t a big deal, and judging from how he blushed again at Wendell’s declaration, Aaron could stand a little adventure. Wendell didn’t see a problem. 

“I got that.” At least Aaron softened it with that rueful grin, but it faded as he lifted his chin. “Wendell, it’s more than age. Jack--”

“Jack.” Wendell cut him off. He was getting tired of hearing about Jack. Aaron always said the name like that, gentle and fond. He took calls from Jack and about Jack no matter where they were or what was going on, even telling Wendell that he’d ordered nachos because Jack liked them so much and checking his phone a few times to make sure Jack hadn’t called. Aaron might be hung up on him, but whoever he was, he was an idiot if he didn’t see how much Aaron loved him. 

The knot in Wendell’s stomach tightened. For a second he couldn’t breathe. Then he had more beer. He noticed Aaron did the same. 

“Jack isn’t here right now,” Wendell said at last, as softly as he could because he got being disappointed and wanting, he really did. What he didn’t understand was Aaron’s puzzled frown. 

“No.” Normally Wendell liked Aaron’s frown. Not now, because it was in defense of Jack. “No, Jack isn’t here. But,” Aaron grimaced, “he isn’t something I can just ignore, as nice as this evening as been.”

“Nice?” Wendell couldn’t help the hitch in his voice. Aaron heard it; he stopped and met his stare. It was all Wendell needed. He tipped forward on his barstool and put one hand on Aaron’s knee. “I think it’s been nice too.” 

The muscles under his hand tensed. They were firm, Wendell noted without surprise, Aaron was in good shape. Wendell wondered vaguely if he were armed because Booth would have been, not that it mattered. He kept his gaze up, watching how Aaron briefly closed his eyes, how his lips parted as if Aaron still had arguments forming. 

Or maybe he was scared. Wendell almost couldn’t blame him though he knew there was no way Aaron, who had stared down killers, could ever be afraid of him. At most he was nervous, tense, because there was something to this, something he’d been chasing after too long to stop now.

He could hear Aaron breathing, almost too loud though Aaron wasn’t moving. Wendell caught the hint of beer on his breath, of spice, and let the moment hang between them. More than nice, that’s what he wanted. Not nice, _intense_ , that’s what he’d wanted, from the second he had seen Aaron waiting for him at the bar. Aaron had arrived early and it couldn’t be anticipation like Wendell felt that had made him do it, but Wendell wanted it to be. 

“This is really happening.” Wendell wasn’t sure who he was reassuring but the whisper was warm against Aaron’s mouth and then he was kissing him. 

Aaron opened his mouth. Wendell knew somehow, somewhere, that Aaron was shocked, frozen, everywhere but his mouth. His lips fell open wider and his breath was hot and he murmured something quiet when Wendell breathed him in. 

Wendell’s fingers were cold from the beer but he slid them to Aaron’s face, felt how it was rougher at his jaw, and then the too short, soft damp length of Aaron’s hair. He could feel each rapid beat of Aaron’s heart too, could almost count them, two, three, four, five, and then Aaron pulled him closer, his hands fisted in Wendell’s shirt like he couldn’t let go. 

His head went back, forcing Wendell to slide to his feet to keep the contact. It deepened the kiss too, and the sound Aaron made at the first touch of his tongue was to the bone. Wendell moved without thinking, petting along Aaron’s jaw, tipping him back for more, a kiss to leave him burning and make Aaron make that sound again, grateful and starving. 

“Hey! Take that shit outside!” The bartender’s shout made Wendell break away. He glared over, catching his breath under the stares of the bar’s other patrons, swallowing when he couldn’t shake the taste. 

“Holy crap,” he mouthed, not sure it was audible, not sure of anything but the pulse pounding in his ears and in his lap and the numb buzz at his lips. He looked over, but Aaron wasn’t looking at him. He was frowning at the bartender, and even if color _was_ high on his cheekbones, his frown was enough to silence the other man. He didn’t say another word while Aaron took his time getting to his feet and put cash on the bar. 

Wendell had meant to pay but he didn’t get a chance. Aaron was stone was he slid his wallet into his back pocket and turned away from the bar. Some people might have shouted obscenities or made threats. Aaron didn’t have to. He scowled and the cowed bartender didn’t say a single thing. Neither did anyone else. 

Wendell took a second, because unlike Aaron he was flushed and tense and needed to adjust himself. He made himself focus on their cockblocker of a bartender. 

“Don’t expect a tip in there,” he added and then followed after Aaron. 

The air outside was cool enough to make him slip his jacket back on. Aaron was at the corner of the building at the edge of the dark alley space between the bar and the closed shop next door. He didn’t say anything as Wendell walked up. 

“Do you need a ride?” Wendell spoke over his tripping tongue. He’d kissed Aaron and Aaron had kissed him back, had made that sound, and now it was over thanks to that asshole at the bar. He hunched his shoulders, digging in to try again. He always tried again, it’s what made him good at his job and even under the circumstances, it made Aaron’s forbidding expression lighten a little bit, as if Aaron was reluctantly charmed. “We could share a cab.” 

He’d be skipping a few meals this week to make up the cab fare, even split, but it would be worth it. He looked up with a smile. “Or if you want, just to get out of the cold, we could go to my place. I’ve got a good local brew you could try and my roommate is out of town.”

Aaron’s gaze had a weight, like a touch, Wendell would swear to it. But Aaron took it away and straightened out his mouth before he turned back. 

“The very fact that you have a roommate says I shouldn’t take this further.” 

“That’s ageist.” Wendell argued it as seriously as he could, and crossed his arms. Aaron didn’t smile, but he did concede the point with a slight nod. 

Wendell stopped, his already fast heartbeat now hammering in his ears. He waited, because that wasn’t enough, and after a second, Aaron inclined his head again and Wendell got to glimpse that smile. 

“I’m not very good at this.” Aaron exhaled, though he wasn’t any less stiff. 

“You seemed good to me,” Wendell told him, not even trying to joke about it, and Aaron’s gaze came up. 

“So did you.” 

Wendell liked that too much, how honest Aaron was even when he was clearly making himself speak. It made him warm all over again, made his mouth dry, his stomach a tight ball of nerves and need. Aaron only set his jaw. 

“But it only reinforces the fact that there is something I should tell you,” there was a crack, a fracture, Wendell saw it as Aaron hesitated, “before whatever else might happen.” 

_Whatever else might happen_. It echoed inside Wendell’s skull, blocking out everything else. His movements were drunk and slow, but he felt quicker than Aaron, who accepted the shadow Wendell pushed him into but was still trying to speak. 

That bullshit ended when their mouth met again. In the dark of the small alley they missed at first, but Wendell panted and moved when Aaron turned into him, when he made that noise again, that rough sound that went straight to Wendell’s dick. He grabbed tight at Aaron’s hips and shoved him to the wall. He didn’t think about it, but Aaron didn’t say anything, didn’t shove back. He opened his mouth and let him. 

No coaxing, not this time. Aaron’s head went back, inviting and needy, so Wendell kept on kissing him, hard, with his hands pawing over Aaron’s chest and his body holding Aaron exactly where he was. 

Aaron didn’t touch him, not more than to grab onto Wendell’s collar and hold him there, but Wendell didn’t mind. He hadn’t expected this, Aaron pressed against a dirty wall in the dark alley of a bar they’d been kicked out of, but if he was surprised, so was Aaron. 

Aaron’s lips were soft, open for Wendell’s tongue and their shared, harsh breathing, but his body was firm and tall, strong when Wendell tried to pull back to suck down some air and Aaron dragged him back. 

This kiss was slow, wet, as filthy as the brick at Aaron’s back. Wendell groaned and pushed forward instantly, urging one knee between Aaron’s legs and almost hissing to feel Aaron’s cock hard against his thigh. Aaron tensed, immediately and obviously, there was no other way to describe it, to know it, but Wendell took a moment, a still, cloudy moment, before he inched his body away. Aaron didn’t yank him back this time. 

“Wow,” Wendell breathed it, his face at Aaron’s throat. He wanted to bite it. “Fuck.” Fuck. Aaron drew in air and Wendell was aware that he was listening to Aaron breathe and gauging the sound. Aaron was freaking out again. Probably about _Jack_. 

“Would Jack really mind if I fucked you?” He couldn’t help the growl. He was hard and not thinking clearly. Aaron gave a start. 

“Excuse me?” he demanded, though breathlessly, with a sliver of confusion in his voice. Or maybe that was danger, a warning. 

Wendell frowned and lifted his head without taking his body away from Aaron’s. Aaron, who was hot and hard too and worked up for _him_. “If he really wanted you, he’d be here.” Wendell forced it out, not taking a second to think about why he cared except that he had put in the effort to make Aaron smile, to get this night, what had Jack done?

Rise and fall, for a long a second Aaron breathed, thought, then he spoke. 

“Jack is my son.” Aaron’s breathing was fast but the words were level. Wendell couldn’t see much of his expression but he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He hid anyway, though Aaron probably couldn’t see him in the dark either. Not that he couldn’t still read Wendell; he’d already figured out enough from his pathetic, jealous questions about Jack, when Wendell hadn’t even realized how jealous he was until now, and it turned out that Wendell was his _son_ , probably a kid. 

“Wait,” Wendell abruptly raised his head, blindly seeking out Aaron’s face. Aaron moved again, his clothes brushing the brick. Wendell stepped back. “Jack is your son? You have a son?” No one, _no one_ not even Garcia, had mentioned a son, only his wife. 

“I’ve already had someone try to hurt me through Jack. I don’t want that to happen again.” Aaron’s voice hardened. It had been a warning after all, but Wendell just nodded. He thought of the phone calls, the affection he hadn’t understood. 

“So you don’t talk about him much at work,” Wendell finished for him. 

“Not with just anyone, no.” Aaron’s voice grew marginally softer. Then he sighed and Wendell thought of his shoulders. “Wendell…” 

“No, it’s okay.” Wendell going to get drunk and then it would be okay, but he meant it. He wasn’t a child, whatever Aaron clearly thought. “You have a son. I was an idiot.” 

“I’m sorry.” Aaron said it anyway and moved in the dark again. Wendell thought he felt a touch at his cheek but it was gone too soon for him to tell for sure. “I thought you knew. Jack is….”

“The thing you love most in the world.” Or so Wendell’s mother had always said about him, telling him he’d understand parents some day when he was one. 

“Yes.” Aaron’s simple honesty was a weapon, sometimes. It hurt and Wendell didn’t know why. “And he’s the reason I, we, can’t do this.” Wendell missed the sound of his breathing; it was window into his mind. 

But he didn’t need to explain. Wendell had seen protective parents before. They didn’t let just anyone into their child’s life. He backed off, retreating until he bumped into the opposite wall. From there he could make out Aaron’s shape, his posture as his shoulders went back even straighter under the weight of some burden. That was what Aaron did. Wendell had known it and chased after him anyway, thinking…what? He didn’t know. 

“How old is he?” he called out anyway to keep Aaron there. 

“Seven.” Of course pride rang out of Aaron’s voice. That right there was why Aaron had set his shoulders. They had had one, half of one, date, but Wendell got that much about Aaron. He’d made up his mind and could live with the regret. 

It sucked. Wendell liked kids, he did, he was even pretty good with Parker he thought, but Aaron was right. Aaron was serious and he wanted serious and that wasn’t Wendell. It still sucked. 

It would have been easier to walk away if they hadn’t kissed and his skin weren’t stinging with lost heat. “You’re sure?” he tried again anyway, it was what _he_ did. 

“No.” Damn. Aaron’s honesty hit him in the gut. “But if I’m going to do this, if I’m going to take a chance with a man, I can’t do it lightly.”

“But you came tonight,” Wendell started to argue and then choked. “Aaron?” It was all he got out and then he was remembering Aaron’s mouth under his, the tension before Aaron had responded to him, that first shocked breath. Aaron’s wasn’t answering him and that was his answer right there. “You’ve never…with a man?” He really didn’t mean to sound so incredulous. He imagined Aaron turning to stone but he couldn’t shut up. “ _You_? I know you were married before, but you, Aaron, you could have anyone. I mean there’s a reason I didn’t take you to a gay bar and that’s because I wouldn’t have had a chance once they saw you and--”

“I didn’t want anyone,” Aaron said it like it was the only answer to give. He redefined intense. Wendell realized he was shaking. His shock must have been beyond obvious. 

“I know it’s a lot to handle and I’m not asking you to. I’m sorry. I’m not good at this.” Aaron just kept talking. Distantly, Wendell wondered if Aaron was smiling sadly at himself, but he couldn’t make himself move back into the light so he could see. He felt hot, hot enough to want to tear his jacket off. 

Aaron was a forever and ever kind of guy, stone, something out of a story. “That’s a hell of a personality trait,” he almost laughed but his chest was too tight. 

“Loyal to a fault, I know. Dave has offered his opinion.” Aaron mocked himself gently. Wendell frowned, at himself, at Aaron for doing it, and at Dave, for acting like that was something wrong when it wasn’t. That was…admirable, he decided. Incredible, but beautiful. Wendell had never meant anyone like that and he sometimes thought he’d follow Booth and Dr. Brennan wherever they went, whether they liked it or not. 

To have that…to feel like that. It wasn’t something to mess around with. He knew that, but pulled his jacket tighter around him. 

“You couldn’t just sleep with me?” he asked absently but seriously and Aaron let out a small laugh, flattered and sorry. 

“If only.” The laugh ended on a sigh. 

“You could try.” Wendell sighed too, because it wasn’t going to happen. All the digging in the world and it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t fair. “We’d be good together.” 

The sound. Aaron made that sound, even without Wendell kissing him, and Wendell shifted. He wanted to moan. He was definitely still getting drunk. “Really no other men?” 

“ _Wendell_.” An embarrassed warning, but still no denial. Just that edge of yes please, and no don’t. Wendell understood edges too, in fact he was all edges right now. Sharp things that hurt, that cut. 

“Tonight was nice,” he said instead of admitting that, saying out loud what he couldn’t have because Aaron was Aaron. He liked Aaron, it only made it more confusing. 

“Yes it was.” Aaron didn’t hesitate. “It will be nice with someone else. You are smart and driven. When you decide you really want something, you’ll get it. Other people will see that and be as attracted to it as... as I am.”

For a few minutes Wendell hated the distance, and Aaron—no, Hotch—a little bit. But he couldn’t think of what to say. A mature person, some stable, older person that Aaron would let into his life would probably say it was fine and act like he wasn’t hard and frustrated and breathing fast to cover the ache in his voice. Wendell wasn’t that person. Wendell was Wendell. 

He hunched his shoulders. An honest brush off was still a brush off. “Flattering me as you dump me… You have a problem, you know that?” He peeked over, though he still couldn’t see. 

“I’m aware, believe me.” He didn’t need light to know Aaron would have his head down, that his mouth would be curved into that sad smile. At least Wendell got to hear the strain as Aaron let out a breath. “Do you need a ride home?” 

Screw the cab. Wendell was heading right back into that bar, because that was what he did. He dug in, dug deeper, worked harder, until problems weren’t problems anymore. Not that he knew how to fix this one. He didn’t even know where to start looking. 

He held all of that back. He didn’t want to be bitter, or childish. He wanted to be the smart, driven man that Aaron saw him as. But he raised his head and swallowed so he would be clear. “I can take care of myself.” 

He wondered if Aaron nodded, but didn’t wait to see. He turned toward the light and stepped out of the alley. He didn’t think Aaron would follow him but when he turned back Aaron was at the corner of the building, watching him. 

Aaron was composed, _on_ again, tense everywhere but his mouth, which was soft, wrecked, from Wendell’s mouth. Wendell doubted Aaron realized that. If he did, Wendell didn’t understand why Aaron would let him see it. Maybe, despite what he’d thought, despite the heat in the way Aaron was looking at him now, finally, after everything, maybe he didn’t understand Aaron at all, what drove him, why he was so worried about Wendell’s feelings when he was the one who felt so much. 

Wendell frowned and considered this as he walked away, as he slipped back into the bar and defiantly ordered another beer, which he got.

**I'm So Excited**

I'm so excited!  
Thank God his roommate was out of town because there was no way Wendell could live down what he was doing. What he was listening to as he did it.

Booth wouldn't believe it. And for a second that was almost enough to make Wendell pause and consider not hitting the replay button on Youtube. But even Booth's opinion of him, and what Booth considered good music, couldn't make him stop playing the song.

It was fast and it was probably disco or at least something too Eighties to even be considered retro cool, and it was definitely the kind of music that Wendell had learned not to listen to back in high school when he hadn't been open about himself, but it was good.

He lifted his chin at the thought of Booth though he knew Booth would only joke about his shitty taste, then he defiantly hit replay and turned his laptop volume all the way up.

It was easier to think about Booth, to think about the electric beat of the song sliding down his spine and the tension humming in his muscles that even dancing couldn't dispel, then why he was so tense. So nervous.

Aaron.

Wendell stopped dead in his bathroom in front of the mirror over the sink and stared at himself. His hair was a mess, he'd cut himself shaving, and his shirt was...plain, cheap.

Aaron had money. Wendell already knew it. Not a lot of money, but old money, the kind that didn't need to dress to impress but impressed just the same. Aaron had simple but refined taste. Aaron...should never have accepted a date with Wendell in the first place. What the hell had Wendell been thinking to ask him at all?

Maybe that he was sexy, with dark eyes that were sad way too much. Maybe that he carried a gun almost the way Booth did. Or maybe that he leaned his head in toward Wendell when Wendell speaking, like what Wendell said mattered.

Only Dr. Brennan had ever listened to him like that before. But Aaron didn't make him feel like an idiot when he was done. He listened and he nodded and he smiled, sometimes.

His smile.

Wendell's heart did a thing. An uncomfortable, heavy, beat-skipping thing, faster than even the song could go, and Wendell looked away from his reflection and moved, heading to his closet for another shirt.


End file.
